


A Good Opinion Once Lost

by prhood



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:20:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23479861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prhood/pseuds/prhood
Summary: Darcy's resentment towards Elizabeth was strong. Moreover they did not encounter one another at Pemberley.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 102





	1. Chapter 1

“. . . My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe too little yielding; certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever.” Chapter 11, Pride & Prejudice

Hunsford Parsonage  
April, 1812

“You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings; and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time.”

The last was said with a contempt that matched her final words to him. Fitzwilliam Darcy hastily quit the room and should she never see him again, she thought she would have no cause to repine. Certain it was that when she woke the next morning, she resolved after breakfast to indulge herself in air and exercise. She was proceeding to her favourite walk, when the recollection of Mr. Darcy sometimes coming there stopped her, and instead of entering the park, she turned up the lane which led her further from the turnpike road. She was allowed a full measure of solitude in her rambles and, when she finally returned to the parsonage an hour later, she felt herself capable of meeting Mr. Darcy again with some degree of composure. 

That he and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, would call on the residents of the parsonage seemed assured, for they were to leave Rosings the next day; however, only one gentleman came to take his leave. Colonel Fitzwilliam offered his cousin’s excuses without revealing the reason for his absence, stayed a quarter hour chatting amiably with everyone, and then went away.

The two gentlemen left Rosings the next morning and Elizabeth’s wish of never encountering Mr. Darcy again was granted – for more than thirty years.

~~~~~~~~~~  
London  
May 1842

One might envision many settings in which to become re-acquainted with the two main protagonists in this story. A fashionable London ballroom would likely fall rather far down the list of possible locations. But, indeed it was, for Lady Beatrice Hamilton-Worth had invited separately both Mrs. Elizabeth Bennet Sceviour and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy to her annual ball. It is quite likely that even had she known of their past history the invitations would have been extended, for surely after such a passage of time those issues which once lay between them could be safely ignored. But our story will continue, not with any meeting between Darcy and Elizabeth, but rather an encounter between her son and one of his close acquaintances. 

~~~~~~~~~

“Come, Sceviour, I must have you meet my sister,” said Mark Higdon.

Joshua Sceviour smothered a sigh. His friend was executing an all too familiar manoeuvre.

“Your mother has been pressing you, I presume,” he replied.

“Father, actually. He wishes to forge a closer relationship to your family,” responded his friend with a grin, void of any embarrassment.

“And that cannot be done by you attending my sister?”

Higdon grin became wry. “Only if she would accord me the slightest encouragement, which she has not. Father is a realist.”

“An optimist, I suspect, is more accurate.”

Higdon only shook his head. Sceviour knew himself to be a very eligible prospect for any young, unmarried lady. He was twenty-five, heir to his father’s small estate, and had established himself firmly in his father’s company. He could well support a wife and family and, for the past year, had been introduced to so many young women as to blur their names and faces in his mind. Higdon’s sister was sure to be another of the same ilk. Nonetheless, Higdon was a friend and a good chap, and he did not wish to cause an insult. So dance with Miss Higdon he would, though he anticipated little pleasure from the experience.

They made their way slowly towards a lady he recognized as Higdon’s mother. She was in company with two young ladies: one short, quite attractive, if slightly plump, and resembling Mrs. Higdon quite markedly; the other was tall and slender, with dark hair and a very handsome countenance. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Elsewhere in the room, Elizabeth was, not for the first time, regretting the passing of her father. He would have taken great delight in the follies and absurdities so amply displayed before her. She had been pleasantly engaged in such ruminations for quite some time when she observed her hostess wending a path though the crush of people and in her general direction. She seemed to be towing a young man in her wake. He was quite tall, standing a half head above the general crowd and she had the oddest sense of familiarity, though she was certain she had never made his acquaintance. Lady Beatrice Hamilton-Worth finally arrived before her.

“Mrs. Sceviour,” said she, “may I introduce to your acquaintance, Mr. George Darcy?”

Elizabeth doubted that neither her surprise nor that of her husband, who stiffened beside her, had been hidden from either her hostess or Mr. Darcy. Nonetheless, she afforded her hostess the proscribed curtsey, consternation making her incapable of more. There was a brief, awkward silence which, however, Lady Beatrice filled admirably and expeditiously.

“Mr. Darcy, allow me to introduce Mrs. Elizabeth Sceviour, Mr. Harold Sceviour, and Miss Samantha Sceviour. I believe Miss Sceviour’s brothers are about somewhere, but perhaps you already know them?”

Mr. Darcy confessed that he had, that evening, made the acquaintance of Mr. Joshua Sceviour. 

“He is, at this moment, dancing with my sister,” he added.

It was impossible, from his features, to discern if the situation was to his preference and Elizabeth wondered whether he had sought an introduction to her and her husband in order to determine their family’s suitability. The usual exchange of civilities then took place and, with her composure restored, Elizabeth inquired, “Mr. Darcy, are you related to the Darcys of Pemberley?”

Mr. Darcy did not look at all taken aback at such a question and Elizabeth supposed, given the consequence of his family, it to be a regular occurrence. 

“I am, Mrs. Sceviour. Do you know my parents?” he replied.

His tone suggested that he was not unused to people presuming an acquaintance and was prepared to suppress any such pretensions on her part. Fortunately, she had none at all.

“I believe I made your father’s acquaintance quite some years ago. I later toured your family’s estate when travelling with my aunt and uncle. Pemberley is very beautiful. Does your father accompany you here tonight?” she paused very briefly, “though, as I recollect, he found little enjoyment in such activities.” 

Mr. Darcy quirked in what she supposed was a smile. “My father has not changed in that regard; however, as my sister must attend, he feels obliged to do so as well.” 

This information did not please Elizabeth greatly. She could only now hope that the crush of people would prevent an encounter. Mr. Darcy waited for several moments as though anticipating a request for an introduction. When one was not forthcoming, he turned to Elizabeth’s daughter, “Miss Sceviour, are you engaged for the next set?”

Miss Sceviour admitted that she was, but that the one following was free which Mr. Darcy expressed his pleasure at being able to claim for himself, though his demeanour did not give any proof to his words. As Miss Sceviour’s partner for the next set materialized beside her, Mr. Darcy spoke with them for only a few more minutes before courteously bowing to them all, and moving away to re-join his companions.

“Are you uncomfortable about possibly meeting Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth?” murmured her husband, though why he worried about being overheard in such a crush was beyond her comprehension.

“I will admit a preference to avoid his company, though mainly because it was so disagreeable. I doubt the passage of... thirty years has improved his disposition.” She was not required to remind her husband of her acquaintance with Darcy at Hunsford. That had been vouchsafed to him at the time of her marriage, although not by her initial inclination. She had not deliberately concealed the knowledge during their courtship. She had only intimated at first of having received two offers of marriage, each of which was so poorly framed as to make her desire to forget them altogether. As they had both occurred some four years prior to their meeting, he saw no reason to press her on them. In truth, he had little desire to know the names of the gentlemen concerned, for he was sure that should he become acquainted with either man, he would not be able to deal with him composedly. Indeed, he might feel the slights she had suffered more seriously than she now did. 

He subsequently learned, from Mrs. Bennet no less, during the weeks preceding their wedding, that Elizabeth had refused an offer of marriage from her cousin, Mr. Collins, who was now installed as master of Longbourn, for it had been entailed upon him and away from Mr. Bennet’s daughters. Five minutes in that gentleman’s company was adequate to make him understand his wife’s refusal. Once that information had been gained, Elizabeth saw no reason to withhold the events surrounding Darcy’s proposal. Sceviour had taken considerably more umbrage at Darcy’s ill-mannered, inept wooing than at Mr. Collins’, for the former was a gentleman not only of substantial consequence but all experienced in society. His response, at that time, was, after his anger had abated, rather gloating.

“How a man of sense and education and breeding could behave in such a manner is beyond my comprehension; however, I believe I owe him a great debt of gratitude, for had he courted you properly, you might now be his wife. Should I ever encounter him, I anticipate making my satisfaction known to him.” 

Elizabeth’s thoughts returned to Mr. Darcy; further discussion with her husband on that subject was, however, forestalled by the appearance of several close acquaintances.

“Samantha appears to be taking, Elizabeth. I believe she has danced every set so far,” said Mrs. Halston.

Elizabeth agreed that she was and watched with no small pride as her daughter moved about on the floor. She was a lovely girl, a subtle blending of the best of her parents. Built to a slightly larger scale than Elizabeth, she moved lightly and gracefully.

“I am particularly pleased,” said Elizabeth, “that, while she enjoys the social life of London, she would not be unhappy to return to Sceviour Hall tomorrow.”

“Has she, do you think, found a gentleman of interest?” asked Mrs. Halston.

Elizabeth’s husband huffed. “I would hope she has not. She is too young to marry.”

Elizabeth smiled, “What my husband means is that he is not yet ready to lose her to another gentleman. However, to address your question, she has, as yet to my knowledge, not fixed her interest on anyone.”

“Mr. Darcy would be a fine match,” hazarded Mrs. Jones-Smythe, who had accompanied Mrs. Halston. 

“Although,” she added, “he is the heir. I believe his father has expectations of his making a superior match.”

“No doubt,” replied Elizabeth, although she forbore to comment further. She supposed she should have been surprised that the introduction to young Mr. Darcy was worthy of note, but she was not. The matrons were always most particular in their scrutiny of the more eligible bachelors and Mr. Darcy was assuredly amongst the most eligible. Her husband did the duties in her place. 

“They have met tonight for the first time,” said he. “I dare say Mr. Darcy was only being polite. We might allow them a few more meetings before engaging in such speculation.” 

Elizabeth hid her smile behind her fan. Her husband’s tolerance for match-making was never high and shrank alarmingly when his children were concerned and was miniscule in respect of his daughter. For herself, she could only hope that Mr. Darcy’s interest in Samantha was fleeting. While she had learned to think better of Mr. Darcy, she still did not think well of him, and she could not view an attachment between their families with pleasure. The younger Mr. Darcy bore too great a likeness in appearance and manners to his father, for her to wish him interested in her daughter.

Mrs. Halston and Mrs. Jones-Smythe, after the exchange of a few more pleasantries, wandered off in search of more entertaining information. 

Almost immediately, her two sons materialized, perhaps waiting for the departure of Mrs. Halston whose daughter was of marriageable age, had suffered through three unsuccessful seasons, and for whom her mother was determined to find a husband this season.

“Mother,” said her eldest, Joshua, “was not that George Darcy with whom you were speaking?”

Elizabeth agreed it was, adding, “he claimed to have met you tonight for the first time.” 

“And he spoke nothing but the truth, Mother,” he replied. “He attended Cambridge and, as we were at Oxford, our circles of friends and acquaintances did not overlap to any extent. I was introduced to his sister by a friend whose true purpose was for me to secure a dance with his sister, not Darcy’s.” He grinned at his mother, “I danced with both and, unfortunately for my friend, Miss Darcy was the more entertaining partner. So, Darcy was here?”

“He has asked to dance the next with your sister.”

Joshua’s surprise was obvious.

“I have not heard anything to his discredit,” offered her youngest son, Adam. “Although I have also heard he is not an altogether agreeable fellow. Inclined to keep to his own small circle of friends. I wonder at his dancing with Samantha, for I was given to understand he finds the activity disagreeable.” 

Elizabeth heard her husband grunt. She smiled in amusement. The younger Mr. Darcy had obviously inherited more than his looks and manners from his father.

“You danced with his sister, Josh?” she said.

Her son nodded. “She is quite the beauty, rather pleasant, and seems quite intelligent.”

“Pleasant?” 

“Indeed, Mother. We had a very agreeable conversation.”

Mr. George Darcy must have been keeping a close watch on the Sceviour party, for he arrived to claim Samantha’s hand for the next set almost as soon as she was returned to her parents. He was introduced to her brothers, who had both donned disapproving miens. Elizabeth suppressed a smile. Her sons performed the same when any new claimant for their sister arrived. It appeared not to faze Mr. Darcy who treated them rather dismissively, according them both the curtest of nods before he led his partner to the dance floor. Samantha affected to be unaware of her brothers’ behaviour, but Elizabeth was certain she would not allow it to go unremarked when they returned home.

“I believe,” said Elizabeth, “that you gentlemen would do better to ask a young lady to dance than to glower at a young man who is to dance with your sister.”

Her sons scurried away, her youngest towards a bevy of debutantes across the room, and her eldest towards another small group of young women. She wondered if Miss Darcy was amongst them.

When Mr. Darcy returned Samantha to their side, he remained to converse with them until her next partner arrived. To her surprise, Mr. Darcy did not depart immediately thereafter, choosing instead to stay and continue their discussion. She was quite content to allow her husband the majority of that burden, offering her own contributions only when directly applied to. Her husband was a skilled conversationalist, capable of eliciting information without giving offense and, in some cases, without the object of his inquisition aware that it was taking place. Mr. Darcy was a young man, slightly older than her eldest son by a year or two. He spoke rarely and had she not been told that he was the son of the Mr. Darcy she once knew, she would have believed it anyway, for never were two characters more similar. She recollected Joshua saying that Miss Darcy was, however, very agreeable and could only suppose she inherited her manner from her mother. Elizabeth was adhering to their discussion only sporadically, her attention more earnestly fixed on her daughter, when she happened to hear her husband’s response to some query of Mr. Darcy.

“Ah, well. While the Sceviours have long been associated with Essex, my branch of the... ah, clan, so to speak, have always been more engaged in business. I acquired Sceviour Hall only some ten years past from a distant member of the family and mostly as place to escape London’s summers. We spend a goodly portion of the year in town.”

Harold Sceviour’s manners were cheerful and engaging. He made no apologies for his situation, recognizing that to do so would be to disparage not only all that he had accomplished over the years but his parents, siblings and other relations as well. Elizabeth smiled at him, which he returned, both realizing that should the young Mr. Darcy find their roots, steeped in trade as they were, to be objectionable, they and their daughter were well rid of him. Elizabeth could not know whether a connection to the Darcys would improve their situation financially, it would undoubtedly improve their social consequence; however, her husband seemed unconcerned on that matter, so she would not worry needlessly. She considered George Darcy’s reaction. His command of his features had been insufficient to mask his surprise at the revelation of the Sceviours’ circumstances. Perhaps he had not expected that persons of such fashion and elegance could be considered only tangentially of the gentry. If their situation was distasteful to him, she was unable to discern it from his address.

While she and Harold did not move within the upper circles of society - a situation which neither of them repined - they counted amongst their friends and acquaintances, many of whom the Darcy family would acknowledge as their equals. Her husband’s forthrightness was a tactic he had used in the past to disarm a potential adversary. As he admitted to her during the days of their courtship, “I despise those who appear ashamed of their roots, who can find nothing admirable in the efforts and success of their forbearers. My parents were not wealthy, a country parson rarely amasses a fortune, but he was intelligent and caring and supported me in my choice of profession. How could I possibly disdain his memory? Or that of my uncle who was generous enough to support me at university, despite being a merchant and never having gone there himself, and who provided me with the means to establish myself in business?” 

She was immensely proud of her husband. Introduced to her by Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle Gardiner, the attraction was immediate and he became a regular caller to Gracechurch Street where she was visiting those same relatives. When he had finally approached her with an offer of marriage, his position in the company had only assured them of a comfortable living. That assurance, along with her appreciation of his intelligence and determination, had fostered her admiration and respect, and allowed her to accept his offer with pleasure. She never had cause for regret. 

Young Mr. Darcy did not appear too discomposed by her husband’s revelation, a circumstance which engendered ambivalent feelings in Elizabeth. It was no easy task to require of herself to look past the obvious similarities with his father and recognize that Mr. George Darcy was not identical to the Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy she once knew. And yet, she could not envision establishing a close relationship with his family or, to be specific, with Mr. George Darcy’s father. 

Eventually, the young gentleman moved away. Elizabeth was relieved that he did not approach her daughter to request a second set, not that his application would have succeeded, for Samantha’s father had decreed that she not dance more than a single set with anyone. While her dowry was certainly not equal to those provided by the wealthiest peers, twenty thousand pounds was more than sufficient to attract the worst type of fortune-hunter. Samantha’s father wished her to enjoy her first season without any serious expectations or encumbrances. She was, in his opinion, which was shared by his wife, too full young to be married. Elizabeth had been twenty-five when she married and she had looked back at the years preceding her marriage as invaluable. Her immaturity and prejudices, when she finally recognized them, had disconcerted her greatly. Of particular significance had been the revelations of George Wickham’s dissipative character. She had no doubt that Mr. Darcy was responsible for Wickham’s removal from the militia and his eventual banishment to the Antipodes. She had, at first, been vociferous in her condemnations of Darcy’s actions; however, the subsequent disclosures of Wickham’s debts, his debaucheries, and his gambling had silenced her criticisms. Moreover, once she had accepted that her understanding had been flawed in that regard, she was forced to reassess her understanding of Mr. Darcy given that she could no longer accept without reservation Wickham’s claims of personal injury. Certainly, Darcy had every justification in refusing to present a clerical living to such a dissolute individual. She was heartily ashamed of her own behaviour, for she had traded prejudice for informed judgement and, in the process, slandered a respectable man. He was disagreeable and haughty and unsociable, but she could no longer believe him to be dishonourable. 

It had been a salutary lesson and, as a consequence, she had, thereafter, been slower and more hesitant to pass judgement on her fellow beings. She had never questioned the correctness of her rejection of Mr. Darcy’s proposal, for she did not like the man, notwithstanding the later absolution of the crime of mistreating Wickham. She only wished, with the wisdom of hindsight, that she had phrased her refusal in less vitriolic terms. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire was not in a good humour, a circumstance he attributed solely to his being required to attend the Hamilton-Worth ball. His hosts were of a rank sufficient to dissuade him from insulting them by his absence, a fact his cousin, Lady Fitzwilliam, had emphasized when he was considering whether to accept the invitation. That his presence was otherwise unnecessary – for Lady Fitzwilliam was quite competent and well able to chaperone his daughter - only added to his aggravation. There must, he mused, be in excess of two hundred people at the ball and he rather suspected he could have arrived, greeted his host and hostess, and then disappeared, first into the room where cards were being played, and then to leave and retreat into the quietude of his own study, without any but his family being the wiser.

The one saving grace was that, by virtue of his age and widower status, he was no longer pressured to dance except should his own daughter require a partner. As she had enjoyed a successful season so far, such services were no longer demanded. He scanned the crowd before him in a disinterested manner, his attitude uninviting and his features, forbiddingly haughty. His scrutiny of others was cursory, for though he knew a great many of the people he observed, he considered few worthy of his attention. His gaze had passed over the features of one lady conversing with several others, when something caused him to regard her more closely. She turned to speak to one of her companions and her countenance was more clearly revealed. His surprise at her presence was understandable; however, he could now, after so many years, only be pleased to view her with complete indifference. The anger and disdain that once consumed him was no more. 

He had only ever truly despised two people in his life, though only his opinion of George Wickham remained immutable with time. In Wickham’s case the good opinion he initially held of him had been destroyed as his character had become more fully revealed. Wickham had been his childhood friend whose dissolute character had only become evident as they both matured into adults; however, it had been the man’s attempted elopement with Darcy’s sister that had fixed his dislike irreparably. The second instance involved a woman, Elizabeth Bennet, he had thought more attractive and interesting than any other of her gender, but had proven herself unworthy of his consideration.

George Wickham, he had dealt with appropriately. The fool had forgotten that Darcy owned the debts he left behind in Lambton and in Cambridge. After Elizabeth Bennet’s stinging, unjustified rejection of his suit, Darcy felt no compunction on taking his revenge - obtaining justice, as it were - on her favourite, Wickham. His solicitor had called on the colonel of Wickham’s regiment, presented his outstanding debts and demanded he be turned over to the civil authorities. As his solicitor informed him afterwards, the colonel was only too pleased to do so after some investigation, for too many of Wickham’s fellow officers had his vowels and the total was beyond Wickham’s ability to repay. Moreover, his debts to the shopkeepers in Meryton had also been excessive. The colonel was relieved to rid his regiment of such a blight. Darcy smiled thinly, he had given Wickham a choice: prison for years or transportation to Botany Bay. Wickham had wisely chosen the latter. 

The second person whom he had once despised with every fibre of his body stood across the room from him but, as he continued to observe her, he understood that, while every injury he had suffered at her hands still outraged him, he had long since allowed that her objections had not been without merit. When he strode away from the Hunsford parsonage, and for many weeks thereafter, his mind could encompass nothing but his own anger and humiliation. To Elizabeth Bennet alone, he had laid his heart bare and confessed his admiration, although nothing in her circumstances warranted such attentions from him. To ensure she understood the depth of his love, he scrupled not to expose to her understanding those objections which he had forced himself to overlook in offering for her, in particular those relations who were so decidedly his inferiors and whose behaviour would be a degradation of the Darcy name. His own parents, he knew for a certainty, would have disdained the connection, accepted her reluctantly, and only to preserve the appearance of family solidarity. While he would not expect Elizabeth to sever the connections to her relations, he had not doubted that she would understand the need to limit their intercourse with them. Instead, she had taken offense. Moreover, she had accused him of mistreating her sister when anyone with the smallest degree of discernment could see that Jane Bennet was a complacent, malleable tool in the hands of her mother. She had no affection for his friend but would have married Bingley solely for his wealth and to improve her family’s situation, imposing those deplorable relations on a man who was struggling to raise himself from his roots in trade. His friend deserved more, deserved better. Darcy considered it one of his privileges to ensure that his friend, whose amiable nature had often led him into awkward, and sometimes fraught, situations, should not be unjustly imposed upon. He had been called upon more than once to protect Bingley from the machinations of fortune-hunting mothers and daughters. Mrs. Bennet was another such and Jane Bennet was her mother’s creature. He later even recalled Miss Bennet’s travelling to Netherfield on a horse rather than by a carriage when rain was a virtual certainty. Another of her mother’s ploys to place her daughter in Bingley’s company for several days and Jane Bennet had executed it perfectly.

He had supposed Elizabeth Bennet to be intelligent. In fact, it was the belief that her face was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes that first sparked his admiration. What nonsense! Following her rejection he had concluded that his infatuation had blinded him to her faults. He had allowed himself to be misled, for Elizabeth Bennet was far from intelligent. Would an intelligent woman have disdained his offer of marriage? Would an intelligent woman not have realized the impropriety of her family’s behaviour and been properly pleased that he had chosen to offer despite it? Would an intelligent woman not comprehend his disgust at the machinations of her mother and elder sister in attempting to secure Charles Bingley? 

The final crushing blow to his hopes, and the means by which he realized how poorly he had judged her, was her defence of George Wickham. To credit his tales of woe was to insult and call into question Darcy’s very honour as a gentleman, and nothing he had done whilst in Hertfordshire could justify such an offence. Her willingness to believe Wickham was the final proof of how lacking in judgement and understanding she was and thus how grievously he had misjudged her intelligence. To call him selfish and conceited, when his every action was driven by the adherence to the strictest standards of propriety and his duty to his estate and his family, was insult enough; however, her opinion of his being dishonourable was unforgiveable. Later, quite apart from the satisfaction that arose from having dealt, finally and appropriately, with Wickham, he found additional gratification in the knowledge he had separated Wickham from her. Darcy had, after some thought, concluded she would feel the greater unhappiness at having lost her lover than from being married to him.

He had walked away from the Hunsford parsonage determined never to accord her anything further than the barest civilities and with the hope of never seeing her again. Had she been a gentleman, he would have called her out for the insult to his honour. She was not, however, and he thus resolved that same night that he would not even pay her the respect of calling to take his leave. He would cast her out of his thoughts. It had not been so easy to accomplish as he had hoped, but by recalling her offences against himself, his anger burned away his infatuation and he had eventually could view her with absolute disinterest. However, he had begun to ameliorate his opinion of Elizabeth Bennet after successfully disposing of George Wickham. He had realized, when his temper had cooled sufficiently, that Wickham was a nonpareil in his ability to deceive. Even Darcy’s own father, who owned more experience and presumably wisdom than Miss Elizabeth Bennet, had been misled by Wickham and if he, Fitzwilliam Darcy, could absolve his father of blame in the matter, he must do likewise for Elizabeth Bennet. It was a humbling experience and then when he considered the manner in which he proposed to her, he could not view it without feeling her anger was not wholly unjustified. 

He had pledged himself that, when he next looked for a wife, he would honour his family and heritage by choosing a woman who was his equal in all those facets important to one of his station. Unspoken was his intention of treating with her in a more gentlemanly manner. That such would be rendered more easy than not due to the difference in station between such a lady and Miss Bennet, did not occur to him. This he had accomplished and the doing of it completed the process of banishing all thoughts of Elizabeth Bennet by replacing her with another more worthy of his attentions. 

It happened quite serendipitously. He had invited Charles Binley and his sisters to spend the month of August at Pemberley; however, a fortnight before they were to depart, Bingley had suffered a broken leg after being thrown from his horse. Much to Miss Bingley’s dismay (and Darcy’s relief), the visit was deferred until a later date. As a consequence, when his aunt and uncle Fitzwilliam invited him to dine with them before they removed to their estate for the remainder of the summer, he was pleased to accept. One of the other guests was Lady Helen Windsor, the second daughter of a Marquess. She was respectably dowered, comfortably attractive, and acceptably intelligent, capable of conversing agreeably and knowledgeably on a wide variety of subjects. Thus, a scant three months after being rejected by Elizabeth Bennet, he found himself attracted to another lady. He pressed his uncle to invite her to visit the Matlock estate whither he also went. When she returned to Town, he had followed and, after a courtship of almost four months, she had accepted his suit. If her reasons for doing so were more the result of the poor condition of her father’s finances, jeopardized by his heir’s profligacy, than due to any overwhelming affection for him, he refused to be unhappy about it. She certainly did not hold him in abhorrence and he had no reason to doubt but that he could earn her respect and affections. His position in society was, perhaps, less than she might aspire to attain if her family’s circumstances had been better, but he was rich, handsome, and wished to marry her. They wed some ten months after his ill-judged proposal to Elizabeth Bennet. Their marriage had been comfortable and founded on a solid mutual tolerance and respect. He had no cause to repine his choice, and, when she died some twenty-five years later, he felt himself much the poorer for her loss.

His thoughts had consumed quite some time and when he looked towards where he had first observed Elizabeth Bennet – though he must suppose her to bear another name now – she was no longer to be seen. He wondered at her presence here tonight. Given her circumstances, he would never have anticipated her being invited to such a prestigious affair. He canvassed his feelings about encountering her and, though he did not wish such a meeting to happen, he believed he could greet her as an indifferent acquaintance. His good opinion of her was irrevocably lost, but he no longer held her in contempt. He believed he could now accord her a civil acknowledgement should they meet. More than that he would not vouch for. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

As expected, the Sceviours received a number of gentlemen callers in the days following the Hamilton-Worth ball. Mr. George Darcy was not amongst them, a circumstance which neither Miss Sceviour nor her mother especially repined. They received those who did call with every civility and, while her daughter was polite to all the callers, Elizabeth could not see that she distinguished any of them with particular interest. Several of the gentlemen called more than once, but discerning no special attention on the part of the young lady, gradually desisted. 

Young Mr. Darcy did attend several of the dinners and card parties to which they were invited, and while his attentions to Samantha were no greater than those accorded by other gentlemen, apparently any such attentions from him were sufficient to earn the notice of several of the more discerning matrons, not all of whom viewed it with approbation. 

One of the more vociferous critics was Lady Celeste Turnbull who, coincidentally, had an eligible younger daughter in want of a husband. Lady Celeste accosted Elizabeth a fortnight after the Hamilton-Worth ball at another, hosted by the Henleys, a family with whom the Sceviours had long been acquainted and with whom they were on the warmest terms.

“Please do not take offense, Mrs. Sceviour, but I would feel myself remiss should I not warn you in regards to Mr. Darcy,” said Lady Celeste after greeting Elizabeth. “I must advise you to temper your expectations. I know the family well and I am certain that his father will only approve a match with the more illustrious families,” 

Elizabeth found it remarkably easy to control her exasperation with the woman and replied composedly, “I cannot claim such an intimate acquaintance with the elder Mr. Darcy; however, my concern is only for my daughter’s happiness and, if such is not to be found with the Darcys, I shall not repine the loss, I assure you.” 

Lady Celeste looked at her sharply. Elizabeth could not resist tweaking the lady a little further. 

“I hope your daughter is enjoying her season, Lady Celeste?”

The lady acknowledged the point with a sniff and the slightest of nods.

“I wish her well. I am sure that there is a gentleman who has yet to make her acquaintance who will be pleased to do so,” said Elizabeth. Miss Turnbull was a thin, rather unattractive young lady, who had endured three unsuccessful seasons and whose only appreciable asset was a dowry of twenty-five thousand. Elizabeth added with evident sincerity, “She might consider Mr. Lawrence Downton. I know he is not the most handsome of gentlemen, but his situation is quite respectable.”

Lady Celeste regarded her as one bereft of any sense. “Indeed!” said she, and moved away as though to escape contamination. Elizabeth smiled at her departure. Mr. Downton’s situation, while respectable – an estate earning some five thousand a year – was, she suspected, made less desirable by the family having only recently acquired it. The Downton’s fortune came from trade – his father being a brewer from the north.

“Dare I ask,” murmured a warm, familiar voice in her ear, “what you imparted to Lady Celeste to make her scurry away so?”

Elizabeth related to her husband the substance of her conversation with Lady Celeste.

“She must have discerned a much greater partiality on Mr. Darcy’s behalf,” he replied with a slight smirk, “than I have to be so forthright. I can see little sign of any particular admiration or attention for our Samantha.” 

“I must agree, though when I recollect his father’s purported courtship of myself, it was done in such a manner as to leave me quite in ignorance of his attentions. His son might be another of that ilk.”

“We shall simply have to wait and see,” replied her husband. 

As it happened, there was little to excite their concern or curiosity, for Mr. Darcy’s attentions to their daughter, if indeed they existed, did not vary to any discernible extent over the remainder of the season. When Elizabeth thought to inquire of her daughter as to her opinion of the gentleman, the response did not surprise her.

“He is certainly handsome enough, to be sure,” Samantha Sceviour stated, her mien thoughtful and rather surprised at her mother’s question. “I am amazed you would have even asked, for I have seen no particular interest on his part.”

“Nor have I,” said her mother. Elizabeth was reluctant to give expression to the errant comments she had received on the matter, not wishing to raise any expectations on the part of her daughter. “I simply wondered if you had done so. Have you formed an opinion on him?”

Samantha gave a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Not really. As I said he is handsome, but he does not make much of an effort to be agreeable. We have spoken on several occasions and he seems intelligent, knowledgeable and well read. But these conversations appear more to be the result of necessity, of us having sat beside each other at a dining table, than from any particular desire to converse with me. I cannot say he pays any more attention to me than any other young lady with whom he is required, by circumstances, to be conversant.”

Elizabeth was satisfied that, if the gentleman had any intentions towards her daughter, he had put them aside after learning of the Sceviours’ station in society. Such pride was, she thought, very similar to that of his father, and she did not regret his lack of partiality at all.

Of greater significance were the continued attentions her eldest son was paying to Miss Darcy. Elizabeth was not aware of his interest for almost a fortnight, for though they lived in Town, their participation in social events was not excessive. Attending a ball was noteworthy for its rarity. While their daughter was making her entrance into society, the attendant obligations were undertaken mostly by means of dinners, breakfasts and ‘at-homes’. Of greater significance, perhaps, was that not only were both her sons fully engaged in their father’s business, they also owned a circle of friends whose society they enjoyed to the exclusion of their elders. Between their absences on matters of business or pleasure, and her own in attending her daughter, the occasions for them all to be in company together were few.

Her sons had accompanied them to a few of the dinners and card parties to which they were invited and, while the attentions of Joshua to Miss Darcy were not intrusive or excessive, they apparently were marked enough to draw the notice not only of the lady’s chaperones but several of the more discerning matrons as well. For herself, when she became aware of Joshua’s interest, she recalled that he had accompanied his family only to a few events. It was with some amusement, mixed with concern, that she recollected that Miss Darcy had also been present on each such occasion. 

That not all of those matrons who noticed her son’s preference for Miss Darcy viewed it with approbation, became abundantly clear shortly thereafter. Lady Elaine Stanley, wife of a baronet and mother to a eligible younger son in want of a wife with a substantial fortune, was the most forthright and presumptuous. As Miss Darcy had a dowry of thirty thousand, she would meet young Mr. Stanley’s marital requirements quite adequately in his mind and that of his mother. When Lady Elaine accosted Elizabeth at an ‘at-home’ which the Sceviours were hosting, Elizabeth marvelled at the eerie similarity of Lady Elaine’s cautions to those Lady Celeste Turnbull had proffered at the Henley’s ball. That the objections of one lady had proven groundless, for Mr. George Darcy had paid no further attention to Samantha Sceviour, only made Elizabeth less patient with unsolicited warnings from another. 

Lady Elaine, of course, was not privy to Elizabeth’s thoughts and it is quite probable that she would not have desisted in her efforts even if she had learned of them, for she had greater reason to be concerned. Mr. Joshua Sceviour’s attentions to Miss Darcy were sufficient to have raised her alarm. As Elizabeth listened to her expressions of concern that the Sceviours’ expectation not be unduly roused, she wondered if the distinguished seminaries, which both Lady Elaine and Lady Celeste had attended, provided, in addition to all those other subjects so crucial to the successful introduction of their charges into high society, sessions on how to most effectively depress the pretentions of those in the lower ranks of society.

She forced herself to return her attention to Lady Elaine.

“... certain that his father will only approve a match with the more illustrious families,” said Lady Elaine.

Elizabeth was not disposed to suppress her exasperation with the woman but, nonetheless, replied civilly, “My acquaintance with the elder Mr. Darcy is not great and it is certainly not recent; however, such as it is, I believe you have defined his character quite accurately. Nonetheless, my concern is only for my son’s happiness and, if such is to be found with Miss Darcy, the connection to her family will interest me very little.” 

Lady Elaine looked at her, disbelief evident in her mien. Elizabeth could not resist teasing the lady a little further and, having canvassed her memory for the most egregious candidate, added, “I understand your youngest son is seeking a wife, Lady Elaine?”

The lady could only acknowledge such to be the case. Elizabeth, however, did not want her to harbour any expectations in regards to her own daughter.

“I wish him well. Indeed I do, for I am sure that there is a young lady who has yet to make his acquaintance who will be pleased to do so.” Said Elizabeth, who found herself responding much as she had with Lady Celeste. Thus she remembered Mr. Stanley as a reedy, spotted, rather unattractive young man with an unremarkable reputation. She added with insincere civility, “he might consider Miss Knowles. I know she is not the handsomest of young women,“ indeed, thought Elizabeth, the girl matched Mr. Stanley in a lack of attractiveness, “but she is possessed of a fortune of forty thousand which has a certain charm all of its own.”

What was left unsaid, and was foremost in Lady Elaine’s objections to the girl, was that Miss Knowles’ family was from the midlands, and their robust wealth could not compensate for its having been made in trade, nor for the want of proper manners that were so frequently displayed by virtually every member of the family.

Lady Elaine was more discerning than Elizabeth anticipated, for she simply smiled politely and moved away to seek more congenial company.

Having been accosted on the matter in such a manner, Elizabeth wondered whether she and her husband should discuss with Joshua his intentions towards Miss Darcy. They had never, of course, revealed Elizabeth’s past with the young lady’s father and, even now, a full explanation was most probably unnecessary. However, her son could not be left in ignorance that the history between herself and Mr. Darcy might prove an obstacle to his aspirations. 

It seemed that circumstances would ever prevent such a discussion, for it proved impossible to secure the presence of both husband and Joshua at a time propitious for speaking in confidence. As there appeared no urgency to the matter, several days passed without exciting any particular concern on her part. It was at a ball hosted by another of her friends that the situation changed.

Elizabeth was contemplating a rather outré headdress adorning a matron of sufficient years to know better, when she noticed the approach of her hostess who towed in her wake a woman of an age with Elizabeth, a young woman Elizabeth recognized as Miss Darcy, and another who bore a remarkable likeness to the older woman.

“Mrs. Sceviour, Mr. Sceviour, permit me to introduce Mrs. Charles Bingley who has asked to make your acquaintance. Mrs. Bingley is Miss Darcy’s aunt. I believe you know Miss Darcy, and this young lady is Miss Bingley.”

Elizabeth hoped her surprise at being introduced to Mrs. Bingley was not evident to everyone. If it were, she was relieved that they were too polite to make mention of it. She was not disconcerted by the woman’s relationship to Miss Darcy, but only that she had married Mr. Bingley. She vaguely remembered seeing a portrait of the lady when she toured Pemberley, her brother’s estate in Derbyshire. She had been a handsome young girl. Maturity had refined and sculpted her looks and she was even more handsome now, though Elizabeth doubted she equalled Jane Bennet then or now. Mrs. Bingley was a tall, rather handsome woman, her figure well-formed though matronly, and her features showed sense and good-humour. Miss Bingley appeared pleasant and good-natured; however, Miss Darcy’s resemblance to her brother was marked, although she lacked his height. Fortunately, her manners were more pleasing. She murmured the usual pleasantries, though Elizabeth could discern that she seemed somewhat ill-at-ease which, Elizabeth supposed, might have to do with being introduced to the mother of a young man who had been paying her particular attentions.

Elizabeth blessed her talent for conversation which allowed her to recover quickly and maintain a semblance of composure while contributing her portion of the discourse that ensued. She could well remember Caroline Bingley’s expressions of delight at the probable union of her brother and Miss Georgiana Darcy. She had, when Mr. Bingley first deserted her sister, Jane, thought such a match unlikely given Mr. Bingley’s apparent regard for Jane. She was obviously mistaken, and the schemes of Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy had resulted in the marriage of their respective siblings. For her own sister, Elizabeth could find a great deal of consolation. Jane had married very well. A friend of Elizabeth’s husband had made Jane’s acquaintance and eventually won her affections and her hand in marriage. Before then, however, Jane mourned Mr. Bingley’s loss for several years. He had been her first serious attachment and, at the age of two and twenty, felt his loss with all the anguish such an attachment can engender. Her recovery was complete by the time of her marriage. Moreover, over thirty years had passed and Elizabeth could hardly blame Mrs. Bingley, for machinations in which she had played little or no part. What was done, was done and could not be undone.

The conversation had been carried primarily by her husband, with occasional contributions from the others, until, during a brief pause in the general discourse, Elizabeth found herself addressed directly by Mrs. Bingley who, to this point, had said very little, being content to attend closely the conversation of others rather than speak herself. Elizabeth recalled that Wickham had termed her proud like her brother and her first impression of the lady was that it was an apt description. However, the softness of Mrs. Bingley’s voice quickly led Elizabeth to understand that the lady was, despite her age, disinclined to push herself forward until she had taken a measure of her company. Reserve, not pride, appeared to distinguish her character. Elizabeth had long ago concluded that Wickham had not been altogether truthful in his depiction of the Darcy family, and it seemed that she had uncovered another such falsification.

“I understand from my nephew, Mrs. Sceviour, that you met my brother some years past.”

“That is true,” replied Elizabeth, uncertain how much more she could reveal.

A silence of some moments lasted as Elizabeth hesitated to expand on the subject. Mrs. Bingley flushed, believing that she had, somehow, given offense. For her part, Elizabeth was attempting to quell an instinctive, albeit unexpected, surge of resentment at the situation in which she found herself. She managed to mask any trace of anger as she made a belated attempt to explain.

“I met your brother when he visited his friend who had taken lease of an estate in Hertfordshire where I and my family lived. His friend is now your husband, Mrs. Bingley. In any event, Mr. Darcy and your husband stayed at Netherfield for about two months before departing.”

Elizabeth observed the thoughtful cast to Mrs. Bingley’s features and then the rueful expression as she shook her head slightly.

“I cannot recall my husband or my brother ever speaking of the occasion. Do you recollect where he was staying?”

“An estate called Netherfield Park.”

“No,” said she, “I am sure I have never heard of it. Was your estate near Netherfield?”

Elizabeth informed her it was but three miles distant.

“Do you have sisters and brothers, Mrs. Sceviour?” asked Mrs. Bingley. 

Elizabeth explained that she had four sisters and that both her parents had passed away some ten years prior. 

Mrs. Bingley continued her gentle inquiry, no doubt hoping to determine the suitability of Mrs. Sceviour’s family as possible associates to the Darcy family. Elizabeth admired the skill of her performance, for Mrs. Bingley implicitly understood that information must flow in both directions. It seemed that her discomfort declined as the conversation continued, for she spoke with an increasing degree of assurance. Elizabeth provided a succinct description of her sisters’ situations: Jane married to a merchant whose name was familiar to Mrs. Bingley; Mary, to the local pastor of the Meryton parish; Kitty (or Catherine as she now preferred to be known), to a gentleman with a small estate in Hertfordshire; and Lydia, to a Major in the regulars. That Lydia had barely escaped ruining her family with an ill-advised attempt to elope with Lieutenant Denny, she saw no reason to reveal. The Bennet family had certain cause to be relieved that Mr. Denny possessed the good sense to not fall in with Lydia’s proposal. Mr. Bennet was thus induced to provide more handsomely for the couple as a result. Lydia had the satisfaction of marrying some years earlier than any of her sisters, an accomplishment she had not allowed them to forget. Her status had suffered severely when her two eldest sisters ultimately made more advantageous marriages, and she had felt the insult keenly. This had never prevented her, however, from imposing on them whenever she could. Elizabeth could only be relieved that Mr. Wickham, who had been favoured by her sister, had been transported, for had he been in Brighton, she did not doubt her sister would have eloped with him instead of Mr. Denny. Wickham, she had come to believe, would not have hesitated to elope with Lydia, though whether marriage would have been part of his plan was doubtful.

From Mrs. Bingley, Elizabeth learned that the late Mrs. Darcy had been the daughter of a Marquess (now deceased), had two brothers – the eldest of whom was now the Marquess - all of whom married vey well, and a sister married to a Baron. She also learned that Miss Bingley had eventually married and was now living in Bath. 

Mrs. Bingley appeared to find Elizabeth’s family not too disreputable, although one aspect puzzled her slightly. “Are none of your sisters settled at the family estate - Longbourn, I believe?”

“Unfortunately, Longbourn was entailed away from us to a cousin,” responded Elizabeth. She smiled thinly, “Mr. Collins was, for some years, the pastor of the Hunsford living attached to Rosings Park. In fact, I met there your cousin, Mrs. Bingley, a Colonel . . . Fitzwalter?”

“Fitzwilliam.”

“Ah, so it was. I apologize. I enjoyed his company a great deal. I hope he is well?”

Mrs. Bingley assured her that he was indeed well, and had been promoted to Major-General before retiring. “He lives in town and would, I am sure, be delighted to renew the acquaintance.”

Mrs. Bingley wore a thoughtful expression.

“My brother usually accompanied my cousin on such visits. Did you,“ she inquired, “during your visit, encounter him, Mrs. Sceviour?”

Elizabeth acknowledged that she had met Mr. Darcy a few times during her visit with the Collinses. 

“Then,” said Mrs. Bingley, “I have no doubt you will wish to renew the acquaintance.” 

“Mr. Darcy and I did not part on the most amiable of terms. I would not wish to presume on an acquaintance which might well be... uncomfortable for all concerned.”

Mrs. Bingley regarded her with some surprise, but forbore to pursue the subject, choosing instead, Elizabeth suspected, to discuss the matter with her brother later. Mrs. Bingley turned her attention to Samantha, inquiring into her enjoyment of the season and whether she played an instrument. Upon learning that Samantha did, in fact, play the pianoforte – or piano as it was now coming to be called – she hoped to have the pleasure of hearing the young lady exhibit at some time.

The young ladies were indeed asked to exhibit after the supper. Elizabeth was pleased that her daughter’s performance met with general appreciation and, she thought, was superior to Miss Darcy’s. Miss Bingley, however, provided a performance that was incomparable.

“I believe you have inherited your mother’s ability, Miss Bingley. I was informed many years past that she was a true proficient.”

Mrs. Bingley looked conscious.

Elizabeth laughed, “The praise was, I am sure, justified. I recollect your housekeeper at Pemberley praising you greatly, Mrs. Bingley. Your sisters, also, were very complimentary.”

A further exchange of polite civilities and inquiries, none of which were of great consequence, were interrupted by the signal that dancing was to resume. The gentlemen departed to claim their respective partners and the young ladies on the arm of theirs. Mrs. Bingley made her excuses and went away.

~~~~~~~~~

Elizabeth’s peace of mind would have been substantially improved had she known that Fitzwilliam Darcy’s patience with society had finally been exhausted. He had chosen to depart for Pemberley a few days after seeing Elizabeth, leaving the chaperonage of his daughter in the capable hands of his sister and their cousin, Lady Fitzwilliam. 

This fact she was to learn two days after being introduced to Mrs. Bingley. An invitation to dine a fortnight hence was received from the Bingleys and, despite her misgivings, accepted by Elizabeth. Joshua Sceviour and Miss Darcy were in each other’s company several times in the days following the ball and it was evident that her son was yielding to the preference which he had begun to entertain for Miss Darcy, and was in a way to be very much in love.

However, several days prior to the dinner, a note was received from Mrs. Bingley cancelling the event and the reason given astonished them all. Miss Darcy, it appeared, had been called back to Pemberley by her father. That this demand was not expected by Miss Darcy was evident, for she had said nothing of it to Joshua Sceviour even though they been in company together the previous evening. He, of course, immediately upon learning of her departure, travelled directly to Darcy House where he found that the knocker had been removed and the family had all departed for Pemberley. The situation at the Bingley’s home was exactly the same.

He returned home sorely puzzled. 

It was not hard to conclude that Miss Darcy’s father, upon learning his daughter was receiving attentions from a gentleman who was actively engaged in business, had deemed the gentleman to be unworthy of his daughter and removed her beyond the gentleman’s reach. Joshua had only spoken a few times with Miss Darcy’s older brother, and from his manner Joshua had reason to suspect he did not approve of their acquaintance. It was not so marked as to tilt to dislike, but that he did not wish to encourage the attachment seemed obvious. It would appear that word had reached Miss Darcy’s father and he had been swift to act. Having come to this conclusion with no reference to his parents, neither of the latter saw any need to divulge Elizabeth’s history with Mr. Darcy. They could not be sure whether or not it played a role in Mr. Darcy’s decision, but it confirmed in Elizabeth mind her conviction of Mr. Darcy’s overweening pride, and though she felt all the injury to her son, she could not regret the separation. A close connection to the Darcy family, despite its possible benefits, was not something she desired.

London  
May 1844

“Mrs. Sceviour!”

The voice was tentative, youthful and unfamiliar. Elizabeth turned, fully expecting to be greeted by a young lady with whom she had only a brief, passing acquaintance. Before her, however, stood two young ladies, both of whom she had not encountered in two years. After the events at that time, she thought never to see either of them again – nor had she any especial wish to do so. Summoning her civility, a task rendered more easy by the fact that she had never held the young lady’s disappearance to have been her choice, she greeted them composedly with a courteous nod, “It is a pleasure to meet you once again, Miss Darcy, Miss Bingley. Do you expect to be in Town for any length of time?”

Miss Darcy indicated she expected to stay for the remainder of the season and then, with some trepidation, inquired, “Are you accompanied by any of your family, Mrs. Sceviour.”

When Elizabeth stated that only her daughter had accompanied her to the ‘at-home’, Miss Darcy’s dismay was poorly hidden and Elizabeth could only suppose her to have been sought out in the hope of meeting Joshua. Given his history with Miss Darcy, and also the fact that he now appeared to have recovered from whatever anguish he had suffered at her hands – No! She corrected herself, at Mr. Darcy’s hands, for she must remember to not hold Miss Darcy accountable for the separation. Regardless, she could see nothing positive arising should they meet. 

Thus she added, after a brief pause, “If you will excuse me, I believe I see someone that I have not spoken to for some time.” She nodded politely and was about to turn away, when Miss Darcy reached out to touch her arm.

“May I speak with you in private, Mrs. Sceviour?”

Miss Bingley appeared about to protest when she glanced at her cousin. Whatever was contained in the gaze Miss Darcy returned was sufficient for Miss Bingley to remove to a distance which afforded Miss Darcy and Elizabeth a modicum of privacy.

“Miss Darcy,” said Elizabeth, in tones which she hoped offered a mixture of comfort and firmness, “I do not hold you responsible for the separation with my son. That, I believe, to have been solely your father’s decision. However,” the firmness of her last word overrode an attempt by Miss Darcy to interject, “However, I do not see that the situation has changed in any particular. We are what we are, and I must assume that whatever objections your father had to my family persist still.”

“Mrs. Sceviour, I feel I must apologize for my father’s actions. I...”

“Miss Darcy, you have done nothing other than be a dutiful daughter. You have no need to apologize. I have no doubt as to where the responsibility lies. Neither, I assure you, does my son.”

She smiled at the girl and then turned away. She rather liked Miss Darcy, but circumstances – her father in particular – had severed the relationship with Joshua and Elizabeth was not of a mind to encourage its revival. Seeing her own daughter standing alone some distance away and obviously reluctant to intrude, she moved in her direction.

“That was Miss Darcy, was it not?” asked Samantha. “What did she want?”

Elizabeth agreed it was Miss Darcy and stated that she only wished to apologize for having left Town without taking her proper leave. “And,” she added, “I would prefer that the subject of Miss Darcy be totally forgotten.” She looked meaningfully at her daughter, “which means, my dear, that I do not want any mention of her presence to your brothers.”

Samantha looked bemused for a few moments, and then nodded in silent agreement. She was not oblivious to her eldest brother’s unhappiness at the disappearance of Miss Darcy, nor of the length of time it had taken for him to get over her. He had yet to pay special attentions to another lady. She did wonder at his reaction should he learn of Miss Darcy’s presence in Town. She could not think he would be unhappy to be reacquainted with her and might be displeased to learn that his mother, having spoken to her, had chosen not to inform him of it. Nonetheless, she would abide by her mother’s direction. With Miss Darcy in Town, the possibility of her meeting with Joshua existed, particularly if the lady was determined on that course.

~~~~~~

The lady, it seemed, was indeed determined upon just such a course. The momentous encounter occurred over a week later. The Sceviour family, as was their wont, was strolling through Hyde Park, which they did following services on Sunday when the weather permitted. Elizabeth and her husband were walking in companionable silence while their offspring paced some small distance ahead, chattering comfortably, all the while looking about in the hope of espying a friend or two. 

It should not have been as great a surprise as it was, for Elizabeth remembered, after the fact, that Miss Darcy and Joshua had met with some regularity in the park on Sundays following services. That Miss Darcy would look first for him there was only to be expected. She was in company with Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, Miss Bingley and a gentleman who bore a remarkable likeness to Mr. Bingley and could only be his son. 

Mr. Bingley greeted them all with no particular sign of consciousness. His children did likewise; Mrs. Bingley, however, looked acutely uncomfortable and Elizabeth could only suppose that she remained embarrassed at her brother’s incivility.

Elizabeth and her husband greeted them all politely, conversed with them employing all the usual banalities of correct conversation before indicating a desire to continue their perambulations. Mrs. Bingley forestalled their departure.

“I believe, Mrs. Sceviour, that I am in your debt for a dinner. Would it please you and your family to join us one night this week?”

Elizabeth was astonished at the invitation. It was impossible to refuse such a token of appeasement and a night three days hence was agreed upon. Elizabeth had surreptitiously watched Joshua and Miss Darcy. Neither spoke directly to the other but, when there was the least chance of being detected, their eyes seemed to gravitate towards the other. Elizabeth sighed in resignation. It appeared that Joshua was as enamoured of Miss Darcy as ever. 

“Do you think accepting this invitation is altogether wise, Lizzy?” 

Her husband spoke softly so as not to be overheard. 

“Perhaps not, but I do not see that we have any choice. Our son’s interest in Miss Darcy appears to be rekindled and hers, I now suspect, has never been extinguished.”

“On what evidence do you arrive at the latter conclusion?”

“She has returned to Town and has remained unmarried. I seriously doubt that she has not had more than one suitor in the past two years. With her family name and dowry, it is impossible. As well, she is visiting the Bingleys which suggests that she has their support. Mrs. Bingley need not have extended an invitation, you know. I very much suspect it was done on Miss Darcy’s behalf.”

“Ah! I see. Well, we shall simply have to bide our time and our tongues.”

Biding their tongues was a great deal more difficult than either Elizabeth or her husband anticipated. Joshua’s mood was extremely unsettled, and though generally even-tempered and more often cheerful than not, he had become silent and withdrawn. He could be roused to smile and laugh, but never for very long and the raillery with which he used to reply to the teasing of his siblings was absent. The reason for his mood was clear to the rest of his family, but no one knew how they might speak to his concerns. There was only one who could do so, and he could not see her until the planned dinner.

It was not unusual for Elizabeth to be greeted by either of her sons when she broke her fast in the mornings. She had made a practice of rising with her husband to eat before he left for his offices. When her sons joined the business, they did likewise. It was unusual, however, for Joshua to linger afterwards, allowing his brother and father to depart without him. She suspected he wished to speak in private and thus, sending away the maid stationed in the room to assist them, she regarded her son with a questioning look. 

He did not respond immediately, being preoccupied with replenishing his cup of tea. When that task was complete, with a great deal more attention than it was normally spared, he looked up to meet his mother’s gaze which now wore a tinge of amusement. She said nothing, waiting for him to speak. Finally he relented, for he had learned very early in his life that he could not outwait his mother.

“I believe,” said he, his attention given to inspecting the cup in his hand, “that I shall not accompany you this evening. I have several matters of business which require my attention.”

“I see,” replied his mother. “Am I wrong to assume that Miss Darcy’s presence is behind this sudden concern for business?”

“I never... I am always diligent in business matters,” he huffed.

She smiled, nodded in acknowledgement, but returned the discussion to its proper subject.

“Well, if you are indifferent to Miss Darcy, your absence will certainly convey that message, although I cannot believe it the most appropriate means of doing so. You were included in the invitation and it would be most impolite not to attend unless the matter which prevents it is most urgent. I do not think that to be the case in this instance.”

He grunted, and she continued, “I believe you sufficiently the gentleman to make your disinterest known without giving offence to Miss Darcy or our hostess. Miss Darcy is, I am certain, quite intelligent enough to comprehend a gentleman’s lack of interest.”

“I am not indifferent to her, mother, as I am sure you have already discerned,” he growled, “but I have no wish to...”

“To pay your addresses, form an attachment, and have it severed... again!”

He nodded.

“I cannot speak with certainty, you understand, but I – and you – have reason to believe that Miss Darcy’s circumstances have altered materially.” At her son’s quizzical expression, she sighed. “You have not forgotten, I hope, that the severance did not take place at her direction? Yes! Well, I believe all of the recent overtures have so far been at her direction. First, and I now regret not having mentioned it earlier, Miss Darcy approached me at the Turnbull’s ‘at-home’, a thing which she need not have done. She could have as easily greeted me with perfect civility and moved on. Instead she wished to apologize for her father’s actions.”

“She has no need to apologize! She...”

“Is blameless in the affair. I assured her that we understood her position. But the point is that she need not have taken such a step. Furthermore, I do not suppose our encounter with them in Hyde Park to have been an accident. She obviously recollected that we walked there after services when the weather was fine. Thirdly, she is staying with the Bingleys and not at the Darcy home. I grant you, Mrs. Bingley is Mr. Darcy’s sister, but I doubt she would have facilitated the re-acquaintance had she not felt it to be desired by her niece. The invitation to dine is a clear signal that she and her husband are prepared to allow Miss Darcy to fix your interest once more. Finally, and the most obvious point, which I believe you have overlooked, is that Miss Darcy remains unmarried two years after being summoned home. I cannot believe she has been sequestered away at Pemberley for two years. With her appearance, her dowry, and her connections, she must have attracted interest from suitors her father would consider most eligible. And yet she remains unmarried.”

She paused briefly, “If you choose to avoid her, then I will not gainsay you; but you will be a very great fool to do so if your interest remains fixed on her. She has done as much as she is able to do to impart her interest. Avoid her if you must, but I think she would make a very fine daughter... despite her father.”

Joshua had learned, from his previous encounters with Miss Darcy, that his mother had known the senior Mr. Darcy, and, from little pieces of information let dropped by his parents, that their acquaintance had not been pleasant. He suppressed his natural curiosity and did not inquire into the matter, believing that should his mother feel it necessary for him to be told, she would do so. To dine with the Bingleys would bring him into Miss Darcy’s company once more, and, if his mother was correct, the lady’s heart had proven constant. His had as well, at least to the point where no woman had replaced her in his affections. His feelings at their encounter in the park had confused him greatly, for he could not deny that his admiration had been swiftly re-awakened. He wondered what he could speak of with her, if she would deign to even speak with him. Despite his mother’s assurances, he remembered Miss Darcy’s withdrawn manner when they met in the park and, at the time, wondered if it might not indicate a reluctance to be in his company.

When the Sceviour party entered the Bingley’s drawing-room, Joshua’s family, despite their best efforts to pretend to be oblivious to his dealings with Miss Darcy, were quite the opposite. Joshua himself, upon entering the room, seemed to hesitate; but Miss Darcy happened to look up, and happened to smile. It was decided. Joshua placed himself by her.

Elizabeth looked immediately to Mrs. Bingley. She bore it with perfect indifference and Elizabeth could only suppose that her son had been sanctioned to pay his addresses to Miss Darcy. Further substance to this conclusion was provided when they moved into the dining-room, for Miss Darcy had been placed between Elizabeth and Joshua Sceviour and Elizabeth could not suppose herself to be of much interest to the young lady. As it happened, Joshua nobly assigned to himself almost all of Miss Darcy’s conversation and bore the tribulation with great fortitude.

Elizabeth could hardly believe herself hard done by, for her other partner at the table was Mr. Bingley. She sat at his right hand and his daughter at his left. She had not had any opportunity to converse with him in their previous encounters beyond the most common polite greetings. She had wondered at his not mentioning their previous acquaintance, but had assumed him too embarrassed at having cancelled, with little warning, an invitation to dine two years prior, to be comfortable in her presence. However, she had not spoken with him beyond a few minutes at the table before she realized that he had forgotten her altogether. Clearly, Mrs. Bingley had not thought it important to inform him on the matter. She was uncertain as to whether any purpose would be served by recalling those events which were now more than thirty years in the past, but, as it was possible they would arise in other conversations, she decided it might be less awkward to recall them now. The only concern was how the subject might be introduced. Her opportunity was not long in being presented, for Mr. Bingley inquired of her, “I understand from my wife that you have an estate in Essex. Mrs. Sceviour. Is your family settled there?”

Elizabeth informed him that her husband’s family was from Essex but that her family’s estate was in Hertfordshire, adding with a smile, “It was called Longbourn. Mayhap you may have heard of it?”

It appeared that Mr. Bingley did recollect the name, though it took him several moments of obvious thought before he did so.

“Longbourn!” he exclaimed, drawing attention from several others around the table. He shook his head, and repeated himself more quietly, “Longbourn. I believe I leased an estate nearby one year.”

“Netherfield Park.”

“Yes, indeed! Netherfield Park.” He looked more closely at Elizabeth, “You must be... Miss Elizabeth.”

“I was.”

“And your family? Are they still at Longbourn?”

“After my father’s passing, our cousin, Mr. Collins, inherited the estate.”

“And no provision was made for your sisters?”

“Fortunately, all my sisters had married by then, and my mother did not long survive my father’s passing.”

Bingley nodded slowly, his mien abstracted. 

“And your elder sister, Miss Bennet, I trust she is well?”

“She is! And very happily married.”

Bingley’s pleasure was unaffected, as were his expressed hopes that Mrs. Sceviour might pass his best wishes to her. “And,” he added, “perhaps, should a particular event take place,” he looked towards Miss Darcy and Joshua, “we might have occasion to become re-acquainted.”

It was impossible to remain unaffected by such an artless display of good-will. She could only believe that Mr. Bingley’s affections for her sister had not been deep as she had supposed, and she could not help but release that last small vestige of resentment she held against him. And, she comprehended, that if she could absolve Mr. Bingley of mistreating her sister, she must do likewise for Mr. Darcy.

“I believe my sister would welcome the opportunity to meet you again.” 

When the ladies separated from the gentlemen as was the custom, Mrs. Bingley did not scruple to draw Elizabeth to sit beside her. The younger ladies were happily comparing their experiences of the season and had no attention for their elders.

“Your daughter is quite charming, Mrs. Sceviour. A delight to converse with. I daresay she has done well. Has she settled on a gentleman as yet?”

Samantha Sceviour was in her third season and had become increasingly bored with the process, eschewing many events in preference to a few that she found particularly enjoyable. Fortunately, she had lately drawn the interest of a gentleman, a Mr. McNamara from Yorkshire, a man of some substance and solid character with whom she was quickly forming a strong attraction. Elizabeth was pleased for her and answered her hostess’ query with some gratification. Mrs. Bingley’s pleasure was warmly expressed, and she was pleased to mention that she knew the McNamara family and thought well of them. Elizabeth’s inquiries as to Miss Bingley were answered with news that she was shortly to be married to a Mr. Thompson of whom the Sceviours had heard, though they had never been introduced. The one subject both ladies wished to discuss, was finally brought forward by Elizabeth.

“I must confess to a certain surprise at how matters have recently evolved in respect of Miss Darcy,” said she.

Mrs. Bingley pursed her lips, and her soft voice became softer. “My brother,“ she replied, “was finally brought to reason. I do not know why he should have such strong objections to your family, Mrs. Sceviour, but there was nothing to be done until he finally accepted that Anne would not bow to his direction in the matter of a suitor. Once she reached her majority, she resolved to come to Town and wrote to me to plead her case. I hate to disoblige my brother on the matter, but I can see no reason not to allow her the freedom to choose her spouse. He afforded me that privilege, and I cannot see any reason why his daughter should not be allowed it as well. We women, Mrs. Sceviour, are allowed too few choices in this world to be deprived of one so important. Do you not agree?”

Elizabeth assured her she agreed whole-heartedly. The inclination to share with Mrs. Bingley the particulars of her past with Mr. Darcy was strong; however, as he had not chosen to disclose the details to his sister, she did not feel it right to do so. 

“I wonder at your brother’s reaction, should Miss Darcy and my son come to an agreement.”

Mrs. Bingley pursed her lips once more, and, after some deliberation, responded.

“I cannot say; however, I felt obliged to inform him that Anne has met your son and that their attraction has not apparently diminished. What he shall do, I cannot say.”

Elizabeth nodded and directed their conversation to another subject. They continued amiably in this manner until the gentlemen joined them. Joshua moved quickly to a seat near Miss Darcy, Samantha and Miss Bingley. They were soon joined by Adam Sceviour and the Bingleys’ two sons. Conversation continued in an amiable fashion until such time as the Sceviour party chose to depart.

Elizabeth fully expected that Mr. Darcy would immediately, upon learning that his daughter was receiving the addresses of a young gentleman he had previously spurned, travel to Town to make his displeasure known; however, her son’s courtship of Miss Darcy continued apace, undisturbed by any such visit. In the fortnight that followed the dinner with the Bingleys, Joshua called on her regularly, attended several dinner parties to which she had also been invited, and danced with her at a small ball hosted by a close acquaintance of the Bingleys.

Elizabeth’s astonishment that Mr. Darcy had not yet made his presence known was eventually relieved, Joshua conveying the information that Mr. Darcy had arrived and chosen to stay at his sister’s home rather than open Darcy House. He had not, her son informed her, made Mr. Darcy’s acquaintance, though he anticipated doing so ere long.

Some days later, Elizabeth and her husband were enjoying a quiet evening at home, reading in their library, their children out on activities of their own, when their butler entered the room and presented a card to her. She handed it to her husband after scanning it briefly and then gave instructions for their visitor to be shown into the drawing-room.

“This should prove interesting, Hal,” she said, as she led her husband out of the room. “I wonder at his purpose in calling on us.”

Harold Sceviour shrugged, “I expect he hopes to have us dissuade Joshua.”

“It is, I believe, too late for that.”

Elizabeth swept into the drawing-room, her husband trailing closely behind. Darcy rose to greet them and bowed curtly to Elizabeth who curtsied in an equal measure.

“Mr. Darcy,” she said.

“Mrs. Sceviour,” he replied, “perhaps you might introduce your husband.”

Elizabeth did so, and the two gentlemen favoured each other with the briefest of bows. Sceviour’s matching Darcy’s exactly.

“I am sure, Mrs. Sceviour, that you can harbour no doubt as to the reason for my visit,” said Darcy.

“I am sure I can surmise your purpose, although what you might hope to accomplish is beyond my comprehension.”

“I shall not leave you in any doubt. My sister has informed me that your son has been paying his addresses to my daughter. I thought I had made my opinions known on the matter two years past.”

“Your opinions, while hardly explicit, were surmised by us; however, Joshua is a man grown, Mr. Darcy, and quite capable of ordering his affairs to his own satisfaction. It is not my inclination to interfere with his designs,” said Sceviour, his manner composed and his tones firm.

“You cannot suppose your son is a suitable match for my daughter. Her standing in society, her connections are so superior to that of your family, as to make such a connection risible.”

“Risible, Mr. Darcy?” cried Elizabeth. “Any more risible than that of your sister to Mr. Bingley? He is naught but the son of a tradesman, is that not the fact? I cast no aspersion upon Mr. Bingley who, apart from a want of resolution, is an admirable gentleman.”

“You cannot compare Bingley’s situation with that of your son! It is ridiculous to do so. Why...”

“I beg to differ!” snapped Sceviour. “The only difference I can discern in their situations is that Mr. Bingley possessed a substantial fortune when he married your sister. In all other respects, I consider Joshua to be his equal. If his fortune is not yet the equal of Mr. Bingley’s when he married your daughter, I have little doubt it will, before too many years have passed, and, I might add, it will be done largely as a consequence of his efforts and not gifted to him by his father. I will not have you slander my son, sir.”

“It is, unfortunately, very much in keeping with Mr. Darcy’s elevated sense of his family’s consequence. He has not improved in that regard in thirty years,” added Elizabeth, her anger rising at Darcy’s insults.

Darcy turned away briefly, struggling to control his temper. Finally, believing himself master of his emotions, he turned back and responded, “I believe, madam, we had best leave our past in the past.”

“I would be quite willing to do so,” replied Elizabeth, “however, it appears to me, by your actions, that Joshua is being judged by what you consider my offenses against you.” 

“I assure you, madam, that is not the case.”

“And yet you disparage our son, Mr. Darcy,” said Sceviour, “whom you have yet to meet to my knowledge. We, on the other hand, have no quarrel with your daughter and should our son offer for her, and she accepts, we will gladly welcome her into our family. Can you say that our son will receive equal consideration? Your behaviour today certainly suggests otherwise.”

“I wonder,” added Elizabeth, “at your approaching us on the matter. I would think that this conversation should be held with your daughter, should it not?”

“I have no doubt that you would welcome her into your family. You could hardly improve your situation more easily.”

Elizabeth regarded him coldly, “I had, to my surprise, come to believe you were not so ungentlemanly as I had once stated. The revelation of Mr. Wickham’s true character caused me to think better of you... until now. Your manners bear a very great resemblance to those of your late aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and you may be assured that I do not intend that as a compliment, sir.”

“And I,” declared her husband, “believe we would best separate now before something is said to cause an irrevocable breach between our families. I would not wish to insult a guest, nor will I be insulted in my own home.”

Sceviour moved towards the bell cord and gave it a firm pull.

Darcy drew himself up, “Be advised that should your son propose and my daughter accept him in opposition to my wishes, do not expect your family to benefit from the connection.”

“You may be assured, Mr. Darcy, that we have no interest in presuming upon it. Good-day, sir!”

The butler was instructed to show Mr. Darcy out.

The Sceviours could not, in good conscience, avoid informing Joshua of Mr. Darcy’s visit and the nature of their conversation. Surprisingly, he appeared totally unperturbed at the information, only commenting that Miss Darcy was of age and had given him to understand that she would not be swayed by her father’s opposition. “The only concern is whether he will bless the marriage, and Miss Darcy believes he will do so.”

Joshua Sceviour’s statement proved prescient, for two days later he found his parents sitting comfortably before the fireplace each reading in their respective armchair, two glassed of wine on the table separating them. He gazed at them for several moments, their companionability so obvious. Finally, he made his presence known. 

“I have,” he announced, “offered for Anne - Miss Darcy - and she has accepted. I went immediately to speak with her father.”

His parents regarded him expectantly. There was nothing in his manner to suggest that his suit had been rejected. Rather the reverse, in fact; however, there was as well an element of confusion in his demeanour. His mother could no longer be silent.

“And?”

Her son looked at her and smiled, his grin as wide and exuberant as ever she had observed on his face.

“He granted his blessing, and his consent,” said he.

He laughed at the incredulous expressions. “Your astonishment is no less than my own, I must confess. I had anticipated him refusing to acknowledge the engagement.”

His parents could not, of course, accept anything other than a full disclosure of what had transpired and Joshua, after a short pause, began to relate how it had unfolded.

“He did not greet me with any indication of pleasure, but I will allow that neither did he pretend not to know my purpose on calling on him. He informed me that his daughter had already spoken to him on the matter and made her wishes known. His consent, he informed me, was not required as his daughter had reached her majority. 

“I assured him of my regard for Anne, which did not appear to appease him greatly.” Joshua smiled, “I enquired whether he would grant us his blessing. His response gave no doubt that, while he would do so, it was only to ensure that no rumours of an estrangement would arise. He questioned me then as to my expectations in regards to Anne’s dowry, declaring that it was within his power to withhold it altogether.”

Joshua’s smile was thin. “I presented him with the proposed settlement papers which did not include Anne’s dowry, informing him that I was well able to provide for her. I did suggest that while I would never speak on the matter, he must be aware that others might become informed of the situation. It would not, I thought, reflect well on the Darcy family. I incorporated in the settlement your suggestion, sir, that Anne’s dowry be settled on her and reserved for any daughters and sons we might have. He, after no little thought, agreed... reluctantly. I suspect he hoped that my proposal was based on accessing her dowry. He certainly seems to think poorly of our family, due, I have always supposed, to our place in society. In any event, it is done, and now all that is required is to arrange the wedding. Neither Anne nor I are inclined to wait, for we have already done so for almost two years.”

Elizabeth and her husband listened, and when their son was done, expressed their happiness at the success of his efforts. Elizabeth added, “I shall arrange a dinner and invite the Darcys and the Bingleys, for I am sure Mrs. Bingley will want to be involved as Anne has no mother to act on her behalf.” 

Invitations were sent to the Darcy and Bingley families to dine three days hence. Elizabeth wondered if Mr. Darcy would accept. The answer was proffered the very next day. Mr. Darcy, it seemed, would not be so discourteous as to not attend in company with his two sons. Mrs. Bingley had also replied, earlier that day, and her acceptance was infinitely warmer and more gracious.

Darcy and his daughter and sons arrived a quarter hour before the time stipulated in the invitation. His purpose for doing so was made clear when he asked to speak with Elizabeth and her husband in private.

“I have,” he said, after they moved to Mr. Sceviour’s study, “come to assure you that I will not be an obstacle to my daughter’s happiness, little though I approve of the marriage. Your son has convinced me of his respect for Anne and, if he is not the husband I wished for her, he is the husband she has set her heart on.”

Elizabeth nodded. It was the time and opportunity to express an appreciation for the one action of Darcy’s that may have benefited her family.

“You were, I have always believed, responsible for the removal, some thirty years past, of George Wickham from our small society in Hertfordshire, were you not?” 

Darcy agreed curtly that he had done so. Elizabeth nodded, satisfied that her supposition was correct. Why he had done so, was of no consequence.

“I wish,” said she, “to express my appreciation for the action. While I doubt that your intentions were to assist my family, you did so. My youngest sister was enamoured of Wickham and subsequent events revealed that his character was not one to trust around young, naive women. The only regret is that he was not removed much earlier. The daughter of one of Meryton’s shopkeepers might otherwise have been spared disgrace.”

Darcy acknowledged her thanks briefly, noting that she had not hesitated to censure him for the tardiness of his actions. He supposed she might have concluded his actions driven more by revenge than any concern for young women so lost to propriety as to allow themselves to be seduced by Wickham. Elizabeth, satisfied that the matter of Wickham could now be forgotten, moved the conversation on to more banal topics. Darcy was, she observed, very much unchanged in manners. His reserve and reticence were much in evidence and, though perfectly civil, he appeared to treat only Bingley with ease and amiability. She refused to be offended. He would become acquainted with her family as time passed and she supposed that he would never be as overbearingly uncivil as his aunt, Lady Catherine. She remembered Wickham acknowledging that Darcy could please when he chose, and could only hope that, at some time in the future, Darcy might recognize that her family would not be an embarrassment to the Darcy name. 

~~~~~~~~

Joshua Sceviour married Anne Darcy slightly more than a month later. The couple’s wedding trip saw them touring Wales, which neither of them had previously visited, having secured the use of a cottage near Cardiff. It is not to be supposed, however, that the weeks prior to their wedding passed without disturbance. 

The first arose when Anne’s uncle, the Marquess of ____ was informed his niece was to marry a man of business. His displeasure was so great as to cause him to travel several days to London to remonstrate with both Darcy and his niece. The Marquess’ expressions of outrage found a ready listener in Darcy; however, the latter, while agreeing with the substance of his brother-in-law’s complaint, finally persuaded him to acknowledge the marriage despite disapproving of it. The Marquess’ attempt to dissuade his niece proved a failure and so, reluctantly, he offered his support, tepidly and meagrely, but offered it was.

Elizabeth was not altogether surprised at such behaviour. The Marquess had a reputation for arrogant, haughty manners and his attendance at a small gathering hosted by the Bingley’s where he was introduced to the Sceviour family did nothing to disprove that opinion. One question puzzled her - from where did Anne’s amiable character derive? It was a question that would require some delicacy to address had she dared, but Miss Darcy, most likely noticing Elizabeth’s speculative glances at herself and her uncle, saved her from having to raise the matter at all. 

Her soon-to-be daughter laughed, humour leavening her embarrassment. “My mother,” said she, “was quite different from my uncle. Her disposition was much like your own. I could never explain how such differences arise, but it seems most families are not unlike in this respect. My eldest brother and I prove the point.”

Elizabeth nodded, “I would only have to consider my own relations as well. You will meet my Uncle Gardiner. He’s my mother’s brother. Sensible, intelligent, well-mannered. My mother was almost his exact opposite. I believe the only things they shared were a name and their handsome appearance.”

“He is to come to the wedding?”

Elizabeth agreed that he would attend. “I doubt anything less would pry him away from his country home.” She laughed heartily, “he and my aunt moved to the Cotswolds a year ago when he retired. I had expected them to move to Derbyshire where my aunt lived when very young, but they preferred to live closer to town and in easier reach of their grandchildren. Besides, my uncle can finally indulge his love of fishing to his heart’s content. You will like them both, I am sure. My aunt is elegant and refined and her company always a pleasure.” 

A silence of a few moments existed before Elizabeth tentatively continued, “Your father married a woman, then, rather dissimilar in character?”

“Yes, I suppose he did, though it seemed to me when I became old enough to understand such matters that the differences tended to complement rather than oppose. They always seemed one of the happier couples that I knew.“

“Then I am happy for him.”

And Elizabeth was. However it happened, Mr. Darcy had found a woman that satisfied his requirements in a wife. She herself could not have done so, and she doubted not that within a year of their marriage he would have regretted his offer as much as she would have regretted accepting it. 

Darcy encountered all of Elizabeth’ siblings (except Lydia whose husband was posted to India) and the Gardiners during the days preceding the wedding. It is possible that time had rendered the improprieties of the Bennet family more egregiously distasteful in his mind. Thus, when he was re-introduced to them, it was all he could do to mask his astonishment. They did not, of course, exhibit the sophisticated manners and dress of the highest society, but were, nonetheless, polite, modestly well dressed as befitting their incomes, and their conversation sensible. They would have easily fit into that society around Pemberley. Jane Euston and her husband, in particular, were pleasantly affable and unpretentious. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, however, proved to be a delight. 

Elizabeth, upon effecting the introduction and naming their relationship to herself, stole a sly look at Darcy, to see how he bore it. He could not, of course, escape the introduction, nor could he ignore them completely during the evening to come, despite their being those connections of hers which he had so thoroughly deplored at one time. His surprise at the connection was quickly suppressed and, perhaps induced by their decided fashionable air and address, entered into conversation with them directly. Elizabeth, who now had no reason to fear embarrassment by any of her relations present that evening, found additional satisfaction as she listened to all that passed between the Gardiners and Darcy. She gloried in every expression, every sentence by her aunt and uncle which marked their intelligence, their taste and their good manners. 

Darcy had, of course, learned of the passing of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet. After his introduction to the Gardiners he was forced to acknowledge that they, at least, would not be detrimental to the Darcy family and might prove pleasant companions on those rare occasions they were both present at some event or other. Elizabeth’s sisters and their families could not be accorded similar approval; however, as they were unlikely to be much in town, the connection would not be overly burdensome and could be safely ignored. This caveat did not apply to Elizabeth’s eldest sister and her family. In them there was nothing wanting. Darcy’s opinions were echoed by his two sons who had always been close to their sister and, if circumstances prevented them from forming a close friendship with Joshua and his brother, they could, nonetheless, meet as respected family relations.

Elizabeth and her husband chose not to visit Pemberley, though invited several times to do so, neither feeling comfortable with such a visit given the history between herself and Darcy. As a consequence, they were rarely in company with him, excepting only those occasions of a familial nature, such as the birth of the several grandchildren they held in common when both families were in town. 

Joshua and his wife, however, maintained a close relationship with her father and brothers and, as she loved Pemberley and was always pleased to share its beauties with her husband and their children, they were frequent visitors. Access to the estate was improved with the establishment of a regular train service between London and the midlands which, by reducing the difficulty and time required to travel there, increased the frequency of such visits. When Mr. George Darcy married a woman with whom Mrs. Joshua Sceviour was intimately acquainted, she and her husband had an additional incentive to visit Pemberley and also met them frequently in town.


	2. Copyright

Copyright © 2020 by Peter Hood

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


End file.
